


The Ghost of Twilight Town

by replicanon



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Universe, Character Study, Friendship, Game: Kingdom Hearts II, Game: Kingdom Hearts III, Gen, Memories, Summer, Twilight Town (Kingdom Hearts)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23328211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/replicanon/pseuds/replicanon
Summary: The residents of Twilight Town are haunted by a boy they never knew.
Relationships: Fuu & Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Hayner & Olette & Pence & Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Minor or Background Friendship(s), Rai & Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Roxas & Seifer (Kingdom Hearts), Roxas & Setzer (Kingdom Hearts), Roxas & Vivi (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	The Ghost of Twilight Town

**Author's Note:**

> The concept of data hearts and material hearts interacting is interesting, and Twilight Town could always use an eighth wonder.
> 
> Typo corrections appreciated. Hope you enjoy.

The sound of bats clattering rings in the air as Hayner and Roxas stumble around the Usual Spot. Rubber bounces off rubber, sneakers snagging on the hard stone floor as they fight. There's eager grins on both their faces. Off to the side Pence is snapping photos, Olette laughing one moment then shouting in worry the next.

"Watch out for the—ah!"

Roxas lands a hit on him. It's intense, that's for sure. Hayner's heart is pumping madly, sweat dripping from his brow as he dodges a blow, swings, scowls when Roxas ducks away. Roxas's eyes gleam. He avoids a crate—just—then has another swipe at Hayner. It's so close they can barely breathe, barely think, barely—

They both cry out as their feet catch on a tarp, sending them tumbling to the ground. Olette's, "I tried to warn you!" and Pence's hiss of secondhand pain are drowned out by their laughter, Hayner capturing Roxas's head under his arm as they roll around on the ground.

"Lucky there's no tarps on the stage, eh?" He says.

"You'll only have your feet to blame when you trip over out there," Roxas replies.

"Oi! He exclaims, but his cheeks are aching from smiling too much. They keep on wrestling until Olette throws their ice creams at them, complaining that they're messing up the floor. They quit it then, bright red and aching, eager for a snack. They eat, then play a few rounds of darts before it's time to head home.

* * *

Olette and Pence are talking but Hayner can't quite hear them. His hand rests on the old tarp, material crinkling under his fingers—there's something off about it, but he doesn't know what. The longer he looks, the heavier his chest feels, and there's a lump in his throat and static in his head. There's no reason for him to feel bad though, so he swallows it down and looks up at his friends.

"You wanna head out for some Struggle practice?" Pence asks. "Some of the other guys said they'd be up for it."

"I promise not to throw ice cream at you so long as you don't bruise anyone this time," Olette says, laughs.

Hayner joins in, but he feels _—_ unwell? "Not today guys, my head feels kinda weird. I think I'm coming down with something."

"Oh, that sucks," Pence says.

"Didn't think idiots could catch colds," Olette adds.

Hayner throws his ice cream wrapper at her as she laughs, but it gets him out of his funk. "You suck Olette. Anyway, either of you up for some darts?"

"Sure!"

They set up a game. Hayner draws ahead quick, mourns the lack of a challenge as he whoops both his friends. Olette's dart-throwing skills are the complete opposite of her ice cream lobbing ones, and Pence is alright, but not great.

Hayner gets into position to make his next throw, sneakers scuffing the tarp. _Man, I_ _miss when me and—_

He stops, shakes his head. _Me and who? The three of us are the only ones here._

But still he pauses to look down at the tarp, frowning before he makes his throw. He hits a bulls-eye, but isn't happy. _There's something off about this room._

"If you don't move Hayner you'll have only yourself to blame when I hit you," Olette says.

"Alright, alright!" He steps aside, and tries to ignores the tarp for the rest of the afternoon. 

* * *

"Say cheese!" Pence exclaims, before snapping a picture. The flash is bright, but not quite as bright as the lady's smile. She looks so happy standing next to Roxas, whose agreed to help her advertise her accessory shop. It's not hard work _—_ just a couple of cute photos for the bulletin boards around town and they're done.

Roxas and her exchange words while Pence takes a moment to fiddle with his camera, trying to hide his smile. Roxas isn't really used to praise, which means it's always fun to watch him get it. Cheeks pink, scratching the back of his head, he's soft in ways you don't expect. He's nice, charming, and extra fun to tease.

Camera at the ready, Pence snaps another shot just as Roxas turns to leave. "Hey!" He complains.

Pence laughs. "I can get rid of it if you want, but I thought you looked pretty cool."

"Yeah, right," Roxas sighs.

"Aw, c'mon," Pence says. "Y'know, I think it's awesome when you get to see all sides of a thing—or a person, in your case. That's what makes them cool to me, all their secrets and stuff!"

Roxas smiles and shakes his head. "Your version of cool is kinda..."

"Yeah, yeah," Pence waves his hand, laughing. "Anyway, I heard one of the girls down in the Tram Commons talking about something spooky hiding out in the garage. It makes a weird buzzing noise, she said. I thought it could be the Eighth Wonder! You wanna go check it out?"

"You bet I do!" Roxas exclaims, and they scurry off together, eager to poke their noses where they don't belong in the pursuit of Twilight Town's mysteries.

* * *

The flash lights up the tram garage, Pence standing at the entrance to the lot. Ever since the gang helped get rid of the bees here he's felt the need to come by. Something feels odd about the place, and he wonders if he can catch anything on camera.

 _Like a ghost_ , he thinks, before snapping another photo and turning away.

He tries not to feel sad when he turns away, but something about the emptiness here haunts him. _Maybe that means the ghost is real_ , he wonders. _Maybe it's the Eighth Wonder._ _Maybe I'll meet him one day._

He looks down at his pictures of the lot, sighs when he sees nothing. "Well, I'd better go ask the accessory shop lady if she still needs some photos done," he says to no one, then begins his lonely journey across town. He's made this trek a thousand times, but he's never felt so sure before that someone should be by his side for it. _I hope Hayner and Olette are already there_ _, cause I'm starting to lose my mind. That might be pretty cool though..._

_Your version of cool's kinda..._

He jumps, turns back for a second, but the lot is still empty. He sighs again, then with one last photo snapped, heads off to make mischief with his friends.

* * *

"Do you think it looks good?" Olette asks, tilting her head this way and that. The sunhat she's picked is a simple white, its only decoration a ribbon and a grand orange daisy tucked to the side.

"I don't know Olette," Roxas sighs.

"You're useless Roxas," she rolls her eyes and laughs. "It's a hat—it can only look good or bad."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah," she says, taking the hat off and brushing out the inside before she sets it back on the mannequin. "I mean I guess it could look 'ordinary', which is fine, but when you're out at the beach you want to look good and be protected, you know? Then you're sure to have a good time!"

"Huh," Roxas says, leaning back against the wall. He's deep in thought, which gives Olette a chance to try some hats on him. She doesn't really care if the boys don't think it's cool. They'll all be thanking her when, after spending a warm day at the beach, they're all eating their ice creams instead of icing their sunburns. No itching, no peeling, just good old brain freeze and burying each other in the sand—cute hats the cherry on top.

"Hey Olette?"

"Hm?" She hums, setting a hat on his head.

"Have you ever actually worn something bad?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" She asks.

"Well you've always looked good, so I was wondering."

She gapes at him. Then he cocks his head, blue eyes oblivious, and she can only laugh. _Of course_. He's the sort who has no idea what he's saying when it comes to things like this. For all that Roxas is savvy in some ways, he's shockingly clueless in others. He has no idea how another girl might take that. Even she's gone a little pink in the face. _But he's just being sweet, lucky me. No relationship drama this time._

Still, it's the most honest sort of compliment you can get, and Roxas is cute enough that she'll trust his eye when it comes to an assessment like this.

"Well, I study up on everything, so I know what styles I like and what looks good on me." She grins, a little smug. "I know what looks good on other people too, so will you trust me to pick out your hat?"

Roxas hesitates, then scratches his head. "I guess."

Inside, she cackles. Outside, she just keeps smiling. "Awesome! Trust me, when we're all throwing beach balls at each other the last thing you'll wanna be is the unfashionable one with a sunburn!"

* * *

"Yowch!" Hayner cries out. "Can't you be little gentler Olette?"

"No," she says, mercilessly slapping more lotion on his back. "I told you to put on a hat and sunscreen, especially if you weren't going to be wearing a shirt. Just be grateful I'm doing this much."

"I wish you were Pence."

"Oh shush. He'll be back with your ice soon."

Hayner doesn't quite 'shush', instead having a good old whine. He goes quiet when she stops slapping and starts smoothing the balm on his skin though, lulled.

"Hey," he says.

"Hm?"

"I'll wear a hat next time, if you pick it." He scratches his head, awkward. "The one you wore today looked good."

And just like that she hears it. A too-familiar echo in a voice she's never heard, the shadow of a boy she's never known tilting his head this way and that. His voice is less awkward, but just as honest. He makes her heart ache, but by the time she reaches for him he's already gone, leaving her nothing but the bright red planes of Hayner's back.

"Olette?" He says.

"I got the ice!" Pence calls before she can answer, his hat set firmly upon his head.

She grins. "Well here's your Prince Charming."

"Screw you Olette," Hayner says, but she can see him smiling.

* * *

His hair is lame.

That's not what sets Seifer on edge though. No, it's his attitude that has that honor. He might be a nice kid, mild most of the time, but his rough patches promise rebellion. Not outright trouble, oh no, but certainly the possibility. 

At least, that's the promise he sees whenever he cuts a glance his way, sharp beneath the soft exterior. For Seifer, that's enough. He's wary, ready for whatever the little punk tries.

They've got a rivalry going soon enough. Everything between them is a contest, from the petty stuff like knucklebones, darts, and the odd skating game, to the street battles and Struggle matches that test their skills for real. It irks Seifer, this tiny blond kid with a scowl stepping into his ring, cocky, combative, ready for a round. Every time he sees him he knows he's going to be a massive pain in his ass.

It makes him wanna be an ass back, really. He wants to show the kid what's it like when someone pushes you to the edge. Maybe that's what does it when the two of them are facing off in an alley, Struggle bats out, getting in that bit of extra practice before the real competition. They're circling, and it's then the light catches Roxas's hair. He looks like a bird—a really stupid one. Seifer grins, drops the bait.

"Scared, chicken wuss? Well if you get on your knees and beg, I might just let you off the hook without telling anyone."

And there it is—the edge. Teeth bared, brows furrowed. But his eyes, those damn eyes, are more aware than ever.

"Thanks," he says, "I'll keep that kindness in mind when I'm done wiping the floor with you."

"Bring it!" Seifer roars, blood singing. Roxas will never be a chicken, he thinks, but if it gets him a fight like this then Seifer will always call him one.

* * *

There's something missing from the competitions in Twilight Town.

Seifer feels it in his bones. They barely rattle when he takes a hit, seeking something rougher than the usual games. Hayner's a good rival of course, and he's glad there aren't that many troublemakers lurking in the streets and alleys raring for a go. It's hard enough keeping such a sprawling town in order, even with all the punks—aside from Hayner's gang—sagging like wet paper towel the moment they catch sight of him. They'd get on his nerves if they were any tougher to deal with.

But it feels off. There's something pent up inside him, a need Hayner alone can't satisfy. 

_The edge. There's no edge to anyone here._

Almost, he understands it. When the sunset catches on the city for a second, light shining off buildings and trees, the feathers of a bird. The world is golden, and Seifer sees him.

"Chicken wuss," he mutters. "Heh."

Then the light shifts and the moment ends, and Seifer's still pent up as ever.

* * *

"I'm not dumb, y'know? I just don't get it."

"I know," Roxas says, poking Rai's homework with his pencil. "But you ain't gonna get it any better unless you study."

"But it's boring, y'know?" Rai sighs, slumping over the table.

"I can ask Olette and Fuu to come over if you find studying with me so boring." Roxas smirks. "They really know how to put a guy to work."

Rai shivers. The worst part is he knows he's serious, blue eyes sharp and dangerous. They're a little like Seifer's, if Seifer were a little girly, less of a hunk, y'know? _Well I mean I don't know. I got that one off the gossip girls down in the Tram Commons—but they know stuff, y'know? About everyone!_

But that's whatever, really, cause the real threat right now is Roxas, and the promise of Olette and Fuu coming round to glare him down. That scares him, not that anyone else needs to know, y'know? So he gets to work.

At least, he does for five seconds before remembers he has no clue what any of these quiz questions mean. There's a sigh, and he looks up just in time to catch Roxas shaking his head. He's smiling though. _That's a good sign, right?_

"Hey Rai?" He says. "Let's take a break. When we come back I'll show you how to work that out, but in the meantime let's get something to eat." He pauses, then flashes a smarmy grin. "Math is easier on a full stomach, y'know?"

"Hey that's—" Rai starts, but he's interrupted by his own stomach growling. He looks down, then back up at Roxas's smug face. "Y'know what? Deal. Let's get burgers. Best food there is, y'know?"

"Well if I didn't I do now," Roxas laughs and rises. "C'mon, I'll pay."

"Thanks man!" Rai exclaims, and let's him lead the way.

* * *

Rai doesn't get it. He sucks at math. He doubts he'd be able to count big numbers, even if his life depended on it, and the small ones still trip him up sometimes. Yet here he is, showing his friends a math sheet with a passing grade. Seifer and Vivi stare, while half Fuu's burger slips right out of her bun.

"How?" She asks.

Rai shrugs. Truth is he's got no idea how he passed. He got about as much studying done as he usually does, but then there the answers were, crystal clear. With takeaway burgers and thick-cut fries scattered across his table, he worked out each and every one. Somehow, he remembers a tutor he's never had; blond hair, blue eyes in a girly face, scrawling down how to solve the problems while Rai stuffs his face.

 _But I ain't ever met anyone who looks like that,_ he thinks. _And no one round here except Pence is nice and good at studying—and we always end up just talking about bugs instead._ Still, he's not complaining. He can remember how to solve those problems flawlessly now. _Thanks, brain buddy._

"Rai?" Vivi squeaks.

Rai leans back, burger in one hand. "It's easy, y'know?" He says, and can't quite help the smarmy grin on his face as his friends just keep on staring.

* * *

"Too slow," Fuu says.

The boy scowls, stumbling away. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Fuu's blow wasn't hard though. It won't leave a mark or make him bleed. It will, however, teach him a lesson.

She doesn't quite know what he wants from her, but she doesn't mind their meetings. Teaching him a thing or two isn't hard, and Seifer encourages it. "Maybe he'll grow a little," he'd said. Fuu hadn't pointed out the boy was a troublemaker—if Seifer wanted a rival she wasn't going to complain. She got to sharpen her skills anyway.

 _Lucky_.

There's more though. She likes his scowl, his grit. There's a determination there you don't see often. For all that she's better than him now, he's growing fast. _What if he gets better than me? Than Seifer?_ _What do I do then?_

His eyes narrow, and she stiffens, watches as he moves into position. She assumes her own, heart pounding.

"Get good," she murmurs, not quite knowing who she's talking to. _But I will have to,_ she thinks _, because he definitely will_.

* * *

"Yowch! Fuu!"

Fuu straightens and brushes herself down, Rai's complaints falling on uncaring ears. "Rai," she says, and nothing else. If there's one thing her companion has picked up on over the years, it's what every slight inflection means in her monosyllabic speech. He huffs, pushes himself up, though not without a long whine.

"I'm just tired, y'know? Seifer had us carrying crates and boxes all day and then still has us out practicing after. It's hard work, y'know?"

She does, and she sympathizes. Seifer pushes himself and expects his friends to do so too, regardless of how merciless the work might be on them. Still, they are members of the Twilight Town Disciplinary Committee, and they must perform their duties with diligence and pride. There is no excuse for not staying on top of their game, not one.

_Otherwise he'll beat us, and then the other kids will look down on—_

She stops, frowns. She doesn't know who she's thinking of, when no one but Hayner's gang ever poses a challenge. Still, her thoughts give her something to say.

"Get good," she tells Rai, then assumes her position. "Fight."

* * *

"I'm just not very good at anything," Vivi sighs, leaning against his bat. The woods around them are quiet, save for the distant birds and the trams on their tracks. "Seifer's so cool and I'm just sort of...there."

Roxas frowns. "Well I dunno about Seifer being cool, but I think you're getting better Vivi," he says, twirling his Struggle bat. He moves easily, body limber, blows quick and strong. The training dummy they've set up sways back and forth. "C'mon, have another go. You can do it."

Vivi tries, mimicking Roxas as best he can. _Turn this way, hit that way, then—woah!_ He stumbles on a tree root, narrowly avoiding eating dirt as Roxas catches him by the waist and hefts him back onto his feet.

"I just can't do it," he says.

"Sure you can," Roxas smiles. "Listen, I dunno what's going through your head, but you can do this. If it feels like it's not working for you, then maybe there's something you gotta figure out for yourself. I haven't got answers to all life's hard questions, but I do know you gotta make strength yours before you can build it up. It might not be like Seifer's or mine, but it'll be cool in its own way, Vivi." He steps aside then, cocks his head toward the dummy. "C'mon, give it one more try?"

His words stick in Vivi's head, and when he approaches the dummy this time he doesn't think of Roxas. He thinks of himself; his height, his weight, the way he's shaped. He adjusts his stance.

This time when he hits the dummy it sways, swings from all his blows. More importantly, it feels right. "I get it!" He exclaims, and his heart is as light as Roxas's laughter.

* * *

Vivi practices in the woods—an important part of his everyday routine. He wants to get stronger, to stand proud beside Seifer and aid his friends, but he's struggling.

In his head he sees Seifer; cool, elegant, his superior skills dominating every battle. He sees Rai's raw strength and Fuu's refined power. _What do I have to do to be like them?_ He wonders, takes another swing at his practice dummy and misses. "Woah!" He cries, trips and hits the ground.

He lies there, face down. _Will I ever be cool?_

It's unlikely. He props himself and looks at the dummy—its height, its weight, its shape. He thinks of his friends and himself, and all the differences beyond skill.

_...but I do know you gotta make strength yours before you can build it up...it might not be like Seifer's...but it'll be cool in its own way..._

_Where did that thought come from?_ He doesn't know. It gets him up on his feet though, and as he stares down the dummy he has his answer. He strikes it—his own way—and feels it sway to the beat of his bat. He's satisfied, but still the words echo.

He's not sure if they make him happy or sad, but he guesses that's something he'll have to figure out for himself.

_Just like all life's hard questions,_ he thinks, and gets back to practicing.

* * *

Setzer can't believe he's lost. He's not mad about it, because anger looks most unflattering on him, but he still needs a moment to process the situation.

The victor is a small, blond kid. His build isn't particularly impressive and his fashion is neither plain nor flashy, but those things are irrelevant when one considers the skill and power behind all his blows, the agility displayed in his time on the stage. Setzer offers all his challengers a reward to throw the match, but this might be one of the few times Setzer actually needed them to accept it.

Still, he's lost, and has no intention of behaving in an unsportsmanlike manner now. He might cheat, but he won't complain. 

He watches as the boy's friends rush over and leap on him, cheering and whooping. Setzer knows his chance to be dramatic is over. Once the hero is with his friends, the loser's chance for one last shining moment is long gone.

 _Perhaps it's not so bad to lose_ , he considers, taking in the boy's smile before he turns away. _At least, not to someone like that. If one must fall from glory, better it be the result of an excellent match than a disappointing one._

"You'd best watch out though, Roxas," he murmurs. "I'll take your crown next tournament, with or without cheating."

* * *

Setzer rises to the stage, offers a wave to all his fans in the crowd. He smiles when the ladies squeal, then turns to face his opponent. He hasn't had the chance to bargain with them, but fortunately he has the skill to take on any of the chumps Twilight Town has to offer.

Before him is someone he's never seen though. His opponent is young, a scrawny brunette in clothes not quite plain, but not quite flashy either. He wasn't much of note except his eyes—they're familiar. There's something about them that has all his hairs on end in anticipation, something about that blue that promises this fight won't be an easy one.

 _Well, this should be interesting,_ he thinks. _Don't disappoint me, stranger._

* * *

Roxas starts, sits up with sweat on his brow and his shirt stuck to his skin. His dream fades, static solidifying into colors and shapes, and the shadow of a strange boy sinks back into darkness. Still the afterimages haunt him, seared deep behind his eyes.

"Another dream about him," he murmurs, then glances around the room. Everything is in place at least. It grounds him, taking it in; the shelves with all his books and toys in their boxes, his notes tacked on the wall. They list the things he needs to do— _Struggle practice at noon, lend Pence book on mysteries, study with Olette, teach Hayner skate tricks._ His desk is littered with half-done homework, his sound system flashing as it always does. The star design is cool to him, makes him think of black skies and an endless ocean speckled with light. He doesn't know why, but it comforts him.

The fish lamp does the same, as do the little green pot plants he has scattered around the room. They're soothing as they're strange, islands and jungles exotic places he's never been, although the thought of them is as sweet to him as eternal sunset and sea salt ice cream.

Outside, the bells toll. Roxas rises up on his knees and casts open the window, settles there as a breeze blows through. A new days begins in Twilight Town.

The last of his dream fades from memory, and with it his lethargy. Roxas jumps out of bed, throwing on his clothes and dumping his things in his pockets. He hasn't got time to sit around. Summer's nearly over and there's still so much he and his friends want to do.

 _Maybe this time we'll finally hit the beach!_ He thinks, charging out the door and into the day beyond.

* * *

There are so many fragments of memory lingering in his heart. They haunt him like ghosts and glitter like crystal orbs in twilight, precious thoughts he won't let go of.

Roxas sees bright red hair in one, remembers lounging with a friend at the Clock Tower, smiling, laughing, sharing with him the joy of ice cream the color of the sky in worlds beyond sunset, salty and perfectly sweet. He remembers—barely—a shadow at his other side, the way Axel's eyes go past him sometimes, the feeling of two bodies pushing against him atop the tower. There's pain, so much pain shared between the three of them, but he wouldn't give up a second of those twilit days.

There's a girl with golden hair who gives him the truth, painful as it is. She understands his suffering intimately, both of them ghosts that should never have existed. They're together now, half-asleep in the hearts of the boy Roxas always dreamed about—his curse and his blessing—and the girl that spoke to him in his dreams, whose voice he recalls as he fell from the Clock Tower, reaching out to him. Her red hair blazes like the loveliest dusk, as the boy's eyes shine the loveliest blue.

He even keeps the fragments of the silver-haired boy close, understanding well why he fought so hard to save Sora. They weren't friends in the end, but in another life they could've been. After all, Roxas would've fought that hard to save Sora too, had their roles been switched.

Finally there's them, all the friends he never had. Hayner, Pence, Olette, and all the rest of those strange and wonderful folk from Twilight Town. His heart is weighed down with false memories and real ones, all bound to the people there and the life he never had. He holds them all so dear, hoping they know he still thinks of them, even if they might never think of him.

He hopes they do anyway.

He drifts through Sora's heart, remembering all his friendships, and thinks of how they all intersect at that place. Each and every one was there in Twilight Town; in reality, data, and dream. Each fragment is lit in shades of gold and red and orange, shining brightly. That light reminds him of unfulfilled wishes, promises he can only keep through another.

It's hard to sleep, knowing he never got to the beach, but it's a little easier when he's by the sea and his friends' ghosts are near.

_Do you really care if you're haunted if it's by someone you love?_

Roxas doesn't think he does, although he longs still to be with them in person. Just a day by the sea would be enough, the sunset beach their sanctuary.

* * *

Roxas stands with his feet in the water, tide rushing up to meet him. Behind him his friends are playing; Axel and Xion, Hayner, Pence, and Olette. Other friends, old and new, are celebrating on the shore. They've won a hard fight, and this is their only moment of reprieve before they set to work again.

There's still so much pain, still people missing that shouldn't be, but there's something else too.

Memories.

His friends from Twilight Town aren't the ones who've gathered here, yet somehow they feel familiar. Memories they shouldn't have slipped in, data hearts reaching out for him through those of their other selves. _But the other hearts had to reach back_ , he thinks _, they had to want to know me. They had to care._

And they do, and through them he hopes their data selves can feel their joy, know Roxas is happy and safe and okay, even if there is still pain.

He hopes to see them one day, but then maybe they're already here. How far apart are their worlds really? _Am I the ghost of Twilight Town, or is it haunting me?_

He doesn't know, but he doesn't mind. He thinks of blue eyes and shivers. _There are so many ghosts, but we'll bring them back. We'll all be together, I promise._

The ocean stretches before him, beautiful and endless and lit by sunset. There's a gentle breeze caressing him, and the laughter of his friends everywhere.

"At least I finally hit the beach," he says, and smiles.


End file.
